Tal

TAL

Wild boar. That would be nice. I dug that pit deep and I’m hoping that I get one in the next few days. It’ll take almost all of my salt to preserve it, but that’s okay. The meat will more than make up for the cost. And it’s not like I don’t have any money. Last time I checked, the account still has over three million in it. I can afford the salt.

It’s a nice day. The sun isn’t really that hot, and there’s a brisk breeze. All of my clothes are washed and hanging on the line out back. After two hours of manhandling the pump, all of the garden is watered. I picked the squash and beans, and I’ve got plenty to eat for the next few days, as well as a few jars to can. That reminds me—I need some lid inserts for canning too. I should probably make a list.

The front porch step is rotting out, and I’ve got to find a piece of wood to fix that. There’s a stack beside the cabin, and I think I’ve found the right board when I hear this horrific rustling noise and a squeal. Success! Bacon for me! I grab my shotgun and run toward the pit. I’ll get it out of there somehow—I left a ladder nearby—but first I have to kill it.

When I get there, it takes me a minute to recognize the weird sound I hear. Decidedly not a boar. It’s a human voice. Somebody’s saying, “Hello? Help? Please, somebody?” Sounds like a woman.

When I peer down into the pit, a pair of eyes are staring up at me. “What the fuck?”

“Get me the hell outta here! Is this something you did, you dumb motherfucker? Get me out!” Livid doesn’t begin to touch her expression, and I start to laugh. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. It just pours out. “What the fuck are you laughing about?”

Hands on my hips, I glare down at her, but I’m still laughing. “No. I get to ask the questions here. What are you doing in my pit?”

“Why did you dig a fucking pit?”

“Are you a wild boar?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t belong in my pit. So get the hell out.”

If she has a gun down there, I’m in trouble, because the look she’s giving me is murderous. “If I could get the hell out of here, I already would’ve. For fuck’s sake, get me out!” I can’t stop laughing, and she yells, “Oh, so you hadn’t thought that through, had you? Nice. Ladder? Rope?” As I walk away, she shrieks, “Where are you going?”

It’s only about twenty feet away and I come right back with it in hand. “Here.” The ladder is plenty long enough to get to the bottom, and I watch as she climbs up.

“How were you planning to get a boar up the ladder?”

“Hadn’t thought that one through yet. Suppose I thought I’d climb down, cut it up, and throw the pieces up,” I answer, still chuckling.

“Ugh. Lovely.” She’s brushing dust and grass off her clothes as she speaks. “Well, thank you for getting me out.”

“And you’ll be on your way,” I say, but now I’m not chuckling.

“What? So much for small-town hospitality. Not until I get some answers.”

“To what? How you wound up in my pit? Because it’s my pit, and I dug it, and you’re not food, so it’s time for you to leave.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m investigating?—”

Rage envelopes me. “What? Me? You’re investigating me? Get out of here.” I reach behind me and grab the shotgun where I’d leaned it up against a sapling. In a split second, I’ve raised it and pointed it directly at her.

Imagine my surprise when I find a forty-five trained at my face. “Whoa, buddy. Two can play that game,” she snaps. We stand there, pointing weapons at each other, and I recognize this as a game we’re both going to lose.

“Okay, okay.” I hold up both hands, shotgun in one, and then slowly place the thirty aught six on the ground. “Just calm down. Nobody has to get hurt here.” I watch as she holsters her handgun. “Let’s just take this whole thing down a notch. Now, what do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you. There are kids disappearing down in town and?—”

My hands instantly rise and then slap onto the top of my head. “Holy shit. And everybody thinks it’s me. Wait. Who told you how to find me?”

“Um, Lee McCreary?”

Now I’m pissed. My arms fold across my chest and I lean back into a tree. “Yeah. Should’ve guessed. And he told you I’m kidnapping kids.”

“No. He did not. Matter of fact, he told me you didn’t have anything to do with it, but you might know something that could help.”

“And why would I know anything?”

“I dunno, but he seemed to think you might. Something about being a mountain man?—”

“So he’s the one who called you here to investigate?”

“No. Bitch called me.”

I must’ve misunderstood her. “Mitch?”

“No. Bitch. His name is Bitch.”

“A man named Bitch?”

“I’m sure that’s not his real name, but that’s all I’ve ever heard anybody call him.”

Have I fallen out of reality and into a really bad detective movie? A man named Bitch? Kidnapped kids? A woman in my wild boar pit? What the hell is happening to me? “Okay. Look. You get three questions. I’ll answer them. Then you have to go.” When she says nothing, I bark, “I don’t have all day! Questions!”

“Um, your name is Rand?”

“Yes. Rand.”

“Like Ayn Rand?”

“That’s your second question.”

“No. That’s clarification.”

“Like TalmadgeRand. Everybody calls me Rand here, but back in… before, they called me Tal.”

“And why are you out here?”

“Because this is where I live.”

She cocks a hip and folds her arms across her chest. “That didn’t answer my question.”

“Because I wanted to get back to nature.”

“I didn’t expect to get a bullshit answer, so I should get an additional question.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “What is this, a negotiation ?”

“Looks that way. So do you know anything about these disappearing kids?”

“No.”

“But maybe you know something and you don’t know that you know something.”

“Is that a fourth question? Because it sounded like a question.”

She shakes her head. “No. My voice did not go up in pitch at the end of it, so it’s not a question.”

I drop my head until my chin is touching my chest and sigh. “No. I don’t know anything about the disappearing kids.”

“What if I told you that another kid said that just before they all disappeared, they were flashing rolls of cash?”

Okay, that’s interesting. I’ll bite. “Come on.” I lean down, snap up the shotgun, and turn toward the cabin.

“Where are we going?”

“To my cabin. We’ll sit down and talk. Maybe I can help you.” Or maybe I’m leaving her behind. Nope. I hear her footsteps, and I know she’s following.

“Watch that step right there. It’s rotted out,” I say as we mount the steps to the porch.

“You should replace that.”

“I was going to, but something interrupted me.”

“Yeah? What?”

The front door opens, the hinge complaining, as I look back at her. “You did.” I only have one chair, and I point to it. “You can have the chair. I’ll sit on the bed. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure. Whaddya got?”

“Water. And moonshine.”

There’s a twinkle in her eye. “Moonshine.” The Mason jar is sitting on the counter, so I pour a little into two other jars and hand her one. “Nice crystal.”

“Thanks,” I say with a nod toward the jar. “Been collecting it for a while now.” I take a sip and so does she. It makes me laugh to see her sputter and cough. “Strong, huh?”

“Holy shit. Yeah, I’ll say. You make this?”

“Yep.”

“Word of advice: Don’t quit your day job just yet.” She takes another sip, and this time, she was obviously better prepared for the burn. “So you think you may have some idea what’s going on?”

“Dunno. I’ve caught some people rummaging around when they thought I wasn’t around.”

“Yeah? What did you do?”

“Well, I killed one of them and buried him out back.” Her eyes go round and she opens her mouth to say something, but I laugh. “I’m kidding! I haven’t killed anybody. Yet. But I did shoot at one of them and told them to never come back.”

“Who were they?”

“I have no idea, but they didn’t look like they were from around here. It was more like somebody told them I was up here and they were here looking for something. Not sure what that could be.”

“Are you known to keep large sums of money here? Like, buried out back or something?”

“No. All my money is in the bank except for about fifty dollars. I try to keep a little cash in case somebody hiking through has something they want to sell.”

“Do they do that often?”

“More often than you’d think.” I point to a cross-stitched picture on the wall. “Lady hiking the AT sold me that for ten dollars. Said she was doing them at night in her tent.”

“You get Appalachian Trail through-hikers here?”

“Lost ones. Got big ‘No Trespassing’ signs out there. Most of them leave me alone, but occasionally one will come up here looking for some water because they’ve run out or to see if I can help them because they’re hurt.”

“What do you do then?”

“I’ll give them water. If they’re hurt, they have to figure that one out. I don’t have a phone and no way to call anybody.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No. Got a bike out in the barn. It’s not much, but it does the job.”

“A bicycle?”

That makes me laugh loudly. “No! A motorcycle! An Old Indian Motorcycle Super Enduro.”

“Oh.” She takes another sip of moonshine, and I watch with delight as she takes yet another after that. “So do you think these prowlers have something to do with the missing kids?”

“I have no idea.”

It’s like she’s trying to find something to say. Finally, she says, “That’s a nice garden out there.”

“Thanks.”

“How’d you learn to garden?”

“Trial and error.”

“Looks like you learned from your mistakes.” She looks at her watch. “It’ll be getting dark soon. Guess I should get on down the mountain. Is there an easier way than the way I came?”

“You mean, like without climbing out of a pit?” I ask, being as snarky as I can manage.

“Oh, ha-ha-ha. Yeah.”

“Yeah. I’ll show you how.”

Ten minutes later, she’s gone. I watch her walk down the gravel road, glad for the peace and quiet. Don’t get me wrong. I love people.

I just don’t like them very much.